


Touchstone

by BrytteMystere



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: (Completely platonic that one), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Like LOOSELY, Mother-Daughter Relationship, No Cain-related mess nor Camarilla vs Sabbat wars, No knowledge of VtM required, Slowburn if I manage, So Pseudo Incest I guess, Vampire AU, Vampires sort of based on Vampire: The Masquerade, WILL BE FIVEYA
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-01-20 14:51:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18527290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrytteMystere/pseuds/BrytteMystere
Summary: From her 8th birthday onwards, Number Seven has had strange dreams.Number Five thought they had a great agreement: Seven would practise her violin around him as he worked on his calculations, and he would later comfort her through her allucinations of the mother who sold her up to The Monocle wanting her back.He never really considered one day he would have to fight for Seven's attention. Turns out he gravely miscalculated the situation.Of course, The Monocle is to blame for it all.





	1. Hello, Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things: I'm naming the woman we see birthing by a pool in Russia _Marya Morozova_ and headcanoning she was underage when she suffered through the instant immaculate conception pregnacy (I'm thinking 16 going to 17)  
> Secondly, I'm naming Five _Dorian,_ because it sounded like a perfect fit when I read it.

Marya had never expected a baby seven months after her 16th birthday, nevermind experiencing the whole thing in a matter of minutes without having had more than a kiss on the cheek from a boy.

In many ways, everything had happened so quickly she hadn't had the chance to process the events.

Funny how her life had followed that exact pattern not long ago, with a man she'd thought was merely courting her completely upending her life once again.

She'd been foolish, no doubt of that. It'd been one of  _those days_ , when she couldn't help but hold the blanket that once held her miracle baby and ponder how she would look after eight years, if she was happy, if despite the hardships little Vanya wouldn't have been better off by her side, struggles and all, than with that cold man who'd spirited her away after handing a fat pay check to her parents.

Ivan had been sweetening her up for almost a year, and that particular day, it hadn't seemed outrageous to finally give in, for she hoped his passion would maybe drive away the hollowness that had taken ahold of her.

The dinner was delightful, and so was the room he took her to.

In hindsight, she should have realised sooner all that night ever was: a fond goodbye to her human existence.

* * *

_October, 1997_

Number Seven woke up feeling strangely warm inside.

Usually, her pills would leave her dreamless, waking up in a numb daze even as she felt what could be a thousand ants crawling through her veins. Wanting  _out_.

But not today. No, there was a lingering sense of  _comfort_ , the sort of safety she couldn't recall ever feeling. And a word. A whisper, almost, expressed so quietly Seven might have well imagined it, over and over again as she was suspended in that warm hold.

_"Vanya..."_

It was all nonsense, of course. Father was sure to remind her often how ordinary she was, how utterly non special Seven was in every aspect.

Dreaming up a comforting presence would likely only bring her ridicule if known. Father would attribute it to another foolish grab for attention, or maybe even another reason to increase her medication. So Seven would remain quiet, and cherish this rare dream in her heart of hearts. A comfort for when her father's words cut too deeply, or her siblings' dismissal carved pain into her soul.

 

Except... it wasn't rare at all. From dusk to dawn, she would feel it, through the numbness of her pills, resonating in her bones.

The presence. The primordial comfort...  _Мама_.

As the nights went on, the dreams evolved. They were still frail, gossamer ready to tear at the slightest disturbance, as if мама was reaching out from far away on an uncertain landline. Still, they went on, hands holding her own, a warmth in the act so overwhelming that the distance became unimportant.

Lullabies by her ear, soft hands on her hair, holding her close, all of it with a  _realness_ Seven had never felt from Grace, the nanny they now called  _Mom_.

Мама loved her outside of Father's programming, Seven could  _feel_ the longing in her, till it became an echo within herself, so sharpened by the end of that very week that she could no longer keep it to herself. It may just burst from her chest, and where would that leave her?

So she went to the one exception, the one member of the burgeoning Umbrella Academy that had never seemed bothered by her presence.

Number Five.

Not that he wasn't busy, or didn't have better things to do - of all she would say his training seemed the most intense, and his ambition took him to reach farther and farther into how and where his abilities could take him, on occasion to the detriment of his own health.

However, of all he seemed to endure her violin practise the best, at least since she was able to form proper melodies. Five didn't mind her repeating a composition time and time again to get it down and correct her failures.

Some days, on the rare hours where their Father didn't require his attention, Five would even just pop into her room to listen her play.

She hadn't dared to ask him why, but he'd once asked her to play for him in his room as he figured out some complex math and, since none of the others ever complained about her playing when she was in Five's room, the arrangement had gone on for years.

As things were, if there was someone in the manor she could speak to about her dreams and not be endlessly mocked or made an example of in front of the others, it would be Five.

They'd even sneaked out for doughnuts not that long ago!

So, when the  _need_ to share was too much to bear, she sneaked into his room, violin in hand, and told him everything.

She knew it had been sudden, and that she'd probably interrupted him in the middle of some important calculation, but Seven had innerly determined that she would make it up to him by playing some Tchaikovsky. It would have to be a very short piece, and she still didn't have the waltz fully down, but she was confident he would appreciate the attempt.

He'd been there from the first time she half-butchered  _Sleeping Beauty_ , after all.

 

Five, contrary to what her fears started screaming at her as the silence prolonged, didn't laugh or immediately dismiss her. His eyes kept hers for a moment that seemed to last forever.

"Vanya suits you," he said, and that was enough. If she was too happy, or played far more enthusiastically than her skill level allowed, he made no note of it.

They would be fine. More than fine.

Maybe he didn't quite believe her mother was reaching out to her in her dreams, but he wouldn't be cruel to her about such beliefs, and that was enough.

Five's tongue could cut sharper than Allison's any day, she'd seen it. He seemed to have a special knack for spotting weaknesses and turning them against those who displeased him.

But she, for now at least, was exempt.

* * *

Five sneaks her out to Griddy's that very weekend, as soon as Father goes to sleep, and "Mom" to recharge.

It's beyond delightful, them together gorging on sweetness and caffeine, and she wishes it could be just like that forever.

That'll be the very last night she spends so much time with him in years. In hindsight, it feels as if the universe allowed them a proper goodbye before their dreadful parting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm, again, writing this on a binge at an unholy hour if the morning (2:58am) while this thrice damned rain keeps pouring outside.  
> Will probably edit later for possible typos/style mistakes.


	2. She Found Me Just In Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five swears an oath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dearest Russian friend made me aware that _Vanya_ is, in Russian, pretty much the nickname form of Ivan, which... gave me ideas.  
> Also, again this was mostly written on no sleep at an unholy hour of the evening-morning, so I will provs edit back for typos and the like... hopefully everyone seemed sort of in character?
> 
> I definitely named this chapter by a Hozier Song Title generator (which was recced at the Discord)

Ivan surrounded her in riches.  
She wore dresses that wouldn't have looked out of place in a tsar’s court, had full libraries of books she wouldn't have dreamed of being able to read, _before_ , and even a man-made lake for her to swim in at her leisure.

(Not that swimming had ever stopped reminding her of sudden, crippling pain ever since _that day._ )

Uncountable treasures inside the manor he'd taken her to, infinite stories to keep her entertained forever...

As if any of that could change for even a second what he'd done to her. _What he'd turned her into_.  
She felt like a bird in a cage. The most sumptuous cage she could fathom, yes, but a cage regardless.  
All she'd been granted from _before_ was little Vanya's blanket, which she now kept forever at hand.  
Ivan seemed ever calm and understanding, but Marya had been fooled once and she had sworn not to be again, _never again_.  
All she had of her little miracle was the blanket, and even if Ivan had taken everything else, she would die before letting him take it as well.

* * *

He would eventually get tired of her, she felt that as certainly as she knew little Vanya still lived. He would tire of her melancholy and her sunk spirits. Of whatever measure of fleeting attraction that drove to collect her.

Yet she underestimated him. How keen he was in seeming the perfect suitor. In keeping the illusion of the perfect couple, the perfect love between them.

* * *

On the eve of her daughter's eight birthday, he at last had the perfect gift for her. The one thing she'd quietly longed for since that day back in 1989.

"I can bring little Vanya to you," he said, after feeding her. "You'll have her back, and once she's grown enough, I could grant her the new life I've granted you. Marya, my love, we can be a family. Forever."

 _'He'll get tired of me eventually,'_ she thought, certain. _'But as long as I have my miracle back, maybe I can delay it long enough. **Stand it** long enough.'_

* * *

Number Five would never admit it, of course - he'd learned early enough that to show much overt interest in Number Seven was a good way of making The Monocle insufferable - but something was pulling Seven away, and his whole being raged right beneath the surface, for by then he knew it was a helpless endeavour.

He thus wanted to look at her, touch her, keep her close and not let go. He asked for melody after melody, till her fingers trembled and her notes were more discordant than harmonious, even her patience fraying with his demands.

Five tried to figure out the method by which Seven was being taken away, right under their noses, without anyone realizing. _He_ wanted to reach out, too, to this person who dared to claim Seven as their own, this person who'd remained silent and unknown right till their eighth birthday.

How fair was that?  _He'd_ been there for Seven,  _with_ Seven, every step of the way. And now this unknown who hadn't even had her for a full week wished to tear her away?  _From him?_

There was logic to it, of course.

Ordinary Seven, as the Monocle insisted on calling her, would probably be better off away from the Academy, from the danger and, most importantly, away from the Monocle.

In a way, he should be happy to learn that her mother wanted her back. That there was someone else out there who wished to make her happy, to keep her safe and sound and healthy.

... How could he  _know_ , though?

Reaching to your lost child from another country through her dreams didn't exactly spell  _ordinary_ at all.

And to date, 'powered' individuals had meant targets to eliminate in their missions to save the world.

So, when Seven sneaked out that night, with only her violin for baggage, he followed her.

It wouldn't do for Seven to get hurt, after all. He was the best. Whoever was trying to take Seven would reveal themselves, he would unmask them for the villain they most certainly were, and bring back Seven safe and sound, without the Monocle interfering. Without the others' uselessness ruining the mission.

The Umbrella Academy had many enemies. Five would show them just how much of a bad idea targetting Seven had been.

* * *

Marya was suspicious, at first openly. But the new world she'd been made part of fed on weakness and tore those who showed it to shreds. So she soon grew used to the mask she needed.

 _'He'll get tired of me eventually,_ ' she'd been thinking, already.

Marya hadn't fully realized how right she'd been from the start, and now she was in too deep. Already Ivan had enchanted her with her daughter, dangling the connection he'd somehow been able to forge between them over her head, making her dive further and further into a plan she hadn't bothered to guess, not truly.

Ivan, to her, was so removed from her little miracle that her mind had deliverately ignored the obvious connection.

 _Ivan. Vanya_. Same name, of course.

The room was what truly cemented it all. It was fitted to _his_ taste, with the only allowance of the extra soundproofing and the violin, to what he'd managed to gather from her daughter through the connection. A perfect room for his truly perfect match, undoubtedly. To be raised and prepared by the imperfect one.

But she'd been learning more from him than he maybe even realized, these months.

For all that he seemed omnipotent, he was quite young yet. At least, for his kind's standards. Even if his bloodline was powerful, his very age compared to hers made him vulnerable _to her_ in ways he was all too prone to dismissing.

It seemed something common to his kind - stagnation. Marya had sworn to herself that she would avoid such a pitfall.

Little Vanya would be _hers_. And no one would ever take her miracle from her again.  
Marya Morozova would make herself strong enough for that.

* * *

Seven - no,  _Vanya_ , she had a name, had always had one - was ready.

Мама had assured her that she would need nothing from her captor, and so Vanya had left behing all her clothes. Not that it mattered much, all she had apart from her pajamas were copies of her uniform, and with her never being truly part of the Umbrella Academy, leaving them behind hadn't been much of a hardship.

There was no need to long for them anymore. Мама loved her, wanted her, always had. Ordinary Number Seven had never fit with the others, never been part of _The Umbrella Academy_.

Though all that was true, she would have liked to say goodbye.

Number Five had always been nice to her. Always tolerant of her invading his space, of her trying again and again to be something beyond what she was always meant to be.

Ordinary though she was, he'd never resented her for it, and so within the inner pocket of her blazer she'd hidden the old pocket watch he'd gotten for her on their sixth birthday, when Father ( _but he'd never truly been her father, had he?_ ) had decided they were too old for their teddy bears and made an example of her by tearing Mr Purfling to pieces.

 _"It's not something to cuddle,"_ he'd said, after jumping into her room that night.  _"But it's steady and since you're working on your tempo, I thought you may find it_ useful." Maybe she stayed silent too long, because he followed rather awkwardly with  _"You can hide it more easily from the Monocle."_ And promptly jumped away, leaving her with the pocket clock in hand and many questions.

She'd thanked him the very next night with his favourite sandwich, peanut butter and marshmallows, sneaked in after his latest argument with Father left him without dinner.

Yes, she would have liked to say goodbye, but Мама had been clear that she should be discreet about her leaving.

Vanya would have told her it was a little too late for complete discretion, but she had a hard time communicating anything complex through their connection, and she trusted Five would never tell on her, if only to spite  _The Monocle_.

 

Getting to the park itself seemed like a whole adventure.

Sure, it was dark and scary, but F- _Reginald Hargreeves_ had never let her leave the manor unless to assist him in keeping records of the other's performances. Being  _there_ without him left her in a daze. This was beyond sneaking out with the others, maybe even going to _Griddy's_ with Five.

She was off to  _her family_ , to Мама, and the very air felt sweeter for it.

* * *

The woman was waiting at the parc, sitting on one of the swings, if barely moving in it.

Five could have almost mistaken her for a new, somewhat creepy statue, for her skin was far too white for any living being. The darkness of her long, loose hair didn't help her seen more vital, nor the...  _aura_ she seemed to emit.

Number Five considered himself the least moved by superstition, of all things, and he was quite certain of his ability to handle any potential threat - he hadn't followed Seven alone for nothing, he'd gotten quite good at his spacial jumps.

Regardless, the woman seemed dangerous, and so seeing Seven rush to her was a severe test to his composure.

There had to be some trick, he was certain, but if he revealed his presence too early it could potentially spook the wannabe kidnapper and thus, possibly end harming Seven in some way.

Even so, even knowing he had to keep surprise on his side for as long as possible, the woman unnerved him like nothing had managed before.

Once she'd spotten Seven, she'd moved far too fast, leaving the swing so swiftly he would have almost believed she'd jumped in space.

Seven, herself, seemed unmoved by the woman's sudden presence, hugging her back with abbandon as the woman did a full spiral with her.

Now, Five wasn't _surprised_ by Seven's nonchalance. Her medication often made it hard for her to show more than muted shadows of emotion, but even she should have felt it, the danger that woman seemed to exhude without effort.

Why, then, was she letting herself be dragged into such a hold? It would be hard for her to escape it, even if the woman didn't look particularly strong.

Seven was petite, and much too fragile to put much of a fight, if any, so she really shouldn't be that careless with hugging strangers.

His need to stay inconspicuous kept him too far to actually hear what they were saying, so all he could do was guess the woman was sweet talking Seven into whatever she meant to do by drawing her to a park at midnight.

The hug seemed to last forever, and by every second Five found it harder and harder to keep himself from simply jumping _there_ and taking Seven away, back home, back to _safety_.

But his waiting payed off. The woman let go of Seven, kneeling to her level.

She was now only holding the very tips of Seven's hands, so taking Seven away from danger should be easier. Five had never tried to jump with someone else, but he wasn't above trying it if the situation declined too drastically.

And then...

 _Then_...

Five jumped right by Seven's side, tearing her away from the woman and holding the knife he had taken from Diego's collection at the ready.

Seven seemed dazed, but had instinctively graved his blazer, and after a quick eye check - Five didn't dare take his eyes off the woman for too long - uninjured beyond her left index fingertip.

The woman, recovering quickly, licked the drop of blood left on her lower lip and stood, watching him calmly for a second before dismissing him from her attention, as if he was no threat at all.

Five took a step back, to give himself more leverage with the knife, pushing Seven further behind him in the process.

 _'That woman, she has_...'

"Um. It's as I expected. Солнышко, whatever was in those pills was never meant to help you. It's poison. That man..."

 _'Fangs,'_ he thought and could quite give credit to what his eyes were telling him.  _'It must be the darkness. They must be fake, it can't be, she can't be...'_

Poison.

_Those pills... poison._

No. No, it couldn't be. This had to be the trick, whatever weird fetish moved the woman to play at being a mythic monster. To... convince Seven that the Monocle was... poisoning her?

Why? To try and pump her for information on the Academy?

Seven may be allowed to assist the Monocle during his experiments in small ways, but she was always,  _always_ kept from the serious stuff. She wouldn't be able to tell her much more than what endless magazines had already put together from their missions. Maybe how much of an actual dick the Monocle was, but...

"Poison?"

Seven was actually leaning from behind his back, and if he hadn't had to keep focused on the fanged woman's every move he would probably have turned to shake her for being an idiot. Unable to precisely do that and still wary of trying to jump them both away when he could probably simply take the woman out, he simply pulled Seven back behind him with his free hand.

He'd expected the woman to attack, maybe. Try to take a bite out of Seven again. But she remained calm, unbothered by his continued threat, utterly focused on Seven.

Not that she could actually see her behind him. Even at age 8 he was already taller than her. Seven had always been the most petite of them all.

...

The smallest.

The quietest.

The... only...  _ill one_.

"Isn't it strange, солнышко? All the 'miracle babies' he collected have powers. Yet you,  _my_ miracle, don't? I barely had you a week, and already your cries could shake a room.  _I_ knew you were very, very special, солнышко. My parents knew too, and so did the man they sold you to. They  _took you from me_. They were  _afraid_. They hoped, that man, with his money and power, would be able to help you. It seems he's afraid too, Vanya. He's afraid of you, of what you could do.  _Those pills were poison_ , to keep you down, controlled."

No.

No.

_No way._

The Monocle would never miss the chance to harness another powered kid. He would never...

_'He would never nullify something he couldn't control? Keep it close so it doesn't escape under his thumb?'_

Just thinking it made him scoff.

The Monocle  _would_ be the type to figure out a way to take their powers away, if they displeased him too much.

And he could remember, vaguely, a time when the Monocle took Seven away, a time before her pills.

_'What if she never was "ill" in the first place?'_

"Мама... you think I am... you think I could? But... no, no, Мама, I'm just ordinary," she said, and her voice broke.

"Seven-!"

" ** _Vanya_** ," cut the woman sharply, fangs gleaming under the faint light of the moon. If those were fakes, they were  _very_ good fakes. "You were never  _ordinary_."

"W-What's so bad about being ordinary?"

Seven had stepped fully away from him now, and his heart raced because he knew,  _knew_ the woman would be able to reach her before him, jump or not.

He was already tired, for one - his training hadn't been as exhausting as it could be, since the Monocle had focused more on Number Six, but he hadn't had it lightly either - and he'd seen how fast the woman could be.

Even if she wasn't actually... well, he had no real way of knowing what her strenghts truly were. So there they stood, close but separate, at a standstill.

" _Well, everything,"_ the woman said, and Seven flinched. "Especially when it's nothing but a lie to hold you back, солнышко. Come, come to me. I can take the poison away. I can show you your power, Vanya. There's  _so much_ you could do! Let me show you,  _please."_

 _"Seven, she's lying to you,"_ he wanted to say. But he remembered enough, vaguely, but just enough. Truly, everything had changed after the Monocle had taken her away.

She'd been with them, before. The memory was hazy, buried under the constant reminder that Seven was weak, _vulnerable_ , **_ordinary_**.

" _Seven_ ," he whispered instead, hands clenched to keep himself from reaching out. " _Don't go."_

She was hugging herself, face down to hide behind her hair, but he already knew her choice. He could see it in her trembling shoulders, how she avoided looking at him.

Her violin case had fallen on the ground, and the woman was smiling.

Seven's right hand clunched her blazer, staying still before taking a deep breath.

She walked right up to him, getting between him and the woman in the process. When she finally gathered the courage to look at him, there were tears marrying her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Five. I-I'm so sorry. But she's  _my mother_. My  _actual_ mother. And we both know there's nothing for me back there. So... I guess... this is... goodbye."

She kissed his cheek, and he could have sworn the whole world stopped for a moment.

He could smell the lilac of the shampoo Grace bought for them, the warmth of Seven's lips against his cheek. Five could almost remember a scene long ago, another kiss on the cheek, if wetter with toddler-drool.

It was forever, and less than an instant, before she was turning away.  _Leaving._

"I'll find you," he said, teeth clenched as he clung to her wrist. "I'll master my space jumps fully, and no matter where she takes you, no matter where you are then, I'll find you.  _Vanya."_

He let her go then, stood still as the woman took her away, did his best to memorize their faces as they left.

There, and gone in a second.

He returned to the manor on foot, without a single jump.

Five Hargreeves had made an oath, and if it took him years, he would fulfill it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _солнышко_ is a term of endearment in Russian, sort of like "little sun".  
> A Purfling is an inlaid, protective border around the perimeter of a stringed instrument. On a violin, viola or cello, it looks like a painted double line. I thought it would be cute if Vanya had named her teddy bear after such a thing.


	3. Would That I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanya and Five adjust to the new _status quo._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Архангельск: the Russian name of Arkhangelsk, one of the cities Ivan has a Haven in, and the one Vanya is first taken to, before moving to a different city.

When Мама suggested keeping her out of their world, if only for a decade, Vanya felt a tad betrayed.

Sure, she was still getting used to all the attention being focused on her, and the tutors that had been specifically collected for the type of education her new Отец had prepared for her.

(Not that he wanted her to call him so, he’d insisted on her calling him _Ivan_ \- though her Мама had encouraged her to think so of him, if only mentally.)

Anyways, she’d felt irritated and excluded.  
Мама had taken her away from Five and the others to be a proper family. And now she wanted to keep her away from the wonderful world they were part of? The world she was meant to join once she was of the proper age?

No, no, _no way_.

Vanya pleaded with her Мама, and when that failed she pleaded to Отец – she’d been getting quite spoiled in suddenly having her every wish granted – who agreed with her that her introduction to the world of Vampires should be part of her education.  
Once she had Отец in her corner, then, Мама relented on the condition of being the one to do it.

  
Every wall of the manor was soundproofed, of course, and even if Vanya found her every sense sharpen without her pills, their conversation was barren to her by the very nature of her room.

  
Dinner that night, two hours before the sun rose as she’d gotten used to (more or less), gave her the impression it hadn’t been a nice discussion. Still, at the end Мама slit her wrist and let it pour on a wine glass till it was half full.  
Vanya was excited, and a tad grossed out by it all – even if she was the only one at the table actually _eating food_ , it was new to _see it_ being poured like that, and she’d never drunk blood before. Sure, she may have licked a scratch or two on occasion, but blood had never tasted _good_ to her, so watching her family drink it on a nightly basis was a continued source of wonder to her.

Of course, her Мама’s blood was _special_ , now. Отец had made it so, it would probably no longer taste like human blood.

Maybe. Possibly. _Hopefully_.  
Okay, so maybe Vanya wasn’t as ready as she’d thought herself to be. But the glass was now between her hands, Мама’s wound had healed and Отец was watching her, expectant.

  
_‘Five wouldn’t chicken out,’_ she thought to herself.

  
Five was always so _certain_ once he made a decision, he wouldn’t back from it just because the reality of it would frighten him, she was sure.

So she rose the glass to her lips, and drank.

  
_(It would take her many, many years to realize that her Мама had just been protecting her. And to the lengths she went to for that goal.)_

* * *

Once Отец had made sure that Sir Reginald Hargreeves couldn't force her back under his thumb, Vanya was allowed to send a message to her old companions.

 _"They were never your family, солнышко. That man bought children, and he gave them their surname, but think about it, my Vanyushka. Was he ever a '_ father' _to you?"_

It was a postcard, to Five of course, with a beautiful rendition of Архангельск. Vanya wanted to share with him, even if just a bit, the beauty she was now surrounded by, _allowed to explore,_ especially from dusk to dawn. Pondering just  _what_ to write had been harder.

It'd already been two months since their goodbye, after all, and yet sometimes his words would just echo around her mind, giving her warm chills. She wondered if he would resent the long time without any communication, but then, Five being Five, he would probably understand why.

And he'd vowed to find her.

She doubted she would still be at Архангельск when he set off to do so, and was starting to seriously doubt trying to pull him into the world her mother was still mostly shielding her from (Vanya suspected her lessons on Vampire Lore were being carefully censored), but she wanted to at least try to leave him a clue that wouldn't hopefully have him delving into whatever mess her Мама had going on with ' _Lord Ivan',_ as she'd heard him being called by the servants.

* * *

 "Мама assures me I now have all the time in the world to do with as I wish. Yet there are so many things to do, and so many tutors, I have trouble deciding. I wonder what _you_ would do with endless time?

\- V

PS: Please get a mirror in your room."

* * *

 Life without Number Seven was... strange.  
He kept expecting the others to make some inquiries about it, if not out of worry at least curiosity as to why Five now had her violin.  
Why there were no longer violin practises as background noise to their training.  
Aside from some questioning glances towards what had once been her seat – for now even her chair had been removed, along with the spare belongings of her tiny bedroom, which made Five rather relieved he’d chosen to keep the violin case hidden in his room – from Numbers Six and Four, no one had said anything.  
The first month, he tolerated it well. Five focused on his training, more than ever, and if he asked Grace how to take care of a violin so he could so it for _Sev-Vanya_ every night, no one else needed to know.

* * *

There had been several missions, that whole mess with the Eiffel Tower and the bank robbery with hostages, for example. They’d become an official hero team, presented to the world as _The Umbrella Academy_ , had even gotten a stupid portrait made together and one individually each, before the Monocle went the extra mile and tattooed them all with his chosen symbol.  
So Five was lenient. Vanya had never been very outspoken, forever dismissed to the sidelines by the Monocle. Her quiet nature and her learned ‘ _blend-into-the-walls_ ’ behaviour could make it hard to realize she wasn’t actually there, especially when Numbers One and Three were too busy mooning over each other, Two was too lost in Grace’s attempts to keep him from stuttering, and Four smoke more and more to deal with whatever personal hell of a 'special' training the Monocle had for him.

Five knew how the old bastard could get, so he was _lenient_. He bit his tongue and did his best to excel in his training, instead of loudly berating them for not even _noticing_ she wasn’t there.  
Number Six... Number Six was already having a hard time dealing with his powers, Five could grant him a special leave of concern. He still looked towards Vanya’s seat almost every week, after all. He still seemed to remember she _existed_.  
However, as the _second month_ drew to a close and no reaction was still forthcoming, both his leniency and his patience were at an end.

* * *

The postcard, then, was as unexpected as it was welcome, and left him the whole day in a daze that did get him weird looks from the others. Not that he cared, he’d gotten good enough at his spatial jumps to deal with their normal training without having to dedicate his full attention. The others had a long way to go before they caught up to his level. It may just have been two months, but he’d always given more than his all to training and his focus once awoken was unparalleled, excepting maybe Vanya with her violin practise.  
Uh. Vanya. It should feel weirder, to call Seven that, but the name _fit_ her.

The city on the postcard – which he had found in his room by the window without any explanations as to how it got there – was Arkhangelsk, he’d found after some research at the library.

He wasn’t yet ready to go after her – he expected to be able to jump farther away than he currently could, before attempting to – but he saw it for what it was: a clue and an affirmation.  
Vanya was safe, she _definitely_ still remembered him, trusted he **would** eventually fulfil his vow to her and... _wanted him to get a mirror in his room?_  
At first he wondered if it was some sort of code, but every encryption he tried ended up being nonsensical. So, after cutting off the Monocle’s latest attempt to put a camera in his room – he’d more than earned his privacy, the old man would have to content himself with the general tests they all had to endure to keep track of him -, Five took one of the full-body mirrors sitting unused in one of the many, many empty rooms of the Academy and jumped with it to his room.

  
_(He still hadn’t tried to jump with another living being, but he’d managed to jump with objects far bigger than the mirror and he was **proud** of it. Had the postcard had any sort of return address, he would have written Seven back about it)_

  
After cleaning the mirror with Grace, he’d let it be on the corner by his bed, so he could more easily watch the door as he focused on his equations. It was strange to do so, getting lost in the numbers without Seven’s music to calm his thoughts, but he managed. Somewhat.

* * *

That night, after another gruelling mission and a bath that left him almost fully sleepy, he was forcing himself to care for Vanya’s violin - was almost done with the bow even as his eyes dropped - when it happened.  
Five didn’t realize, at first. He was focused on the violin strings and remembering back when Seven had mastered a lullaby, her first lullaby, _Lundi Matin_ , and played it just for him, so hearing the melody again seemed to him more like a memory being unusually present.  
But something of it, of the flow itself of the melody, so much smoother now than it had been, two years ago, made him look up.  
Vanya.  
_Vanya_.  
**_Vanya_** was there, _in his mirror_ , playing him the very first melody she’d ever played for him, with a white violin, her dark hair braided over her right shoulder.  
He sat there, unable to process the how or why, just drinking in her presence.

The sun was setting, or maybe rising, he'd lost all sense of time as Vanya played, and played, and played. Melody after melody after melody.

Every single one she’d ever played _specifically for him_ , a musical journey through their shared childhood.

And she looked at him, eyes blue-white, pale skin made paler by her white nightgown.

Her smile was _beautiful_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did any of you notice I've been writing "Мама" (Mum) with my Russian keyboard?  
> "Отец" is Russian for "Father".  
> Both Marya and Ivan actually feed long before "dinner time", but take a glass of blood as she eats so she doesn't feel alone. Mostly because vampires feeding can be... a bit unfit for children to witness if done directly and they're still playing the "perfect quirky family" stick.  
> ... Do you remember _Lundi Matin?_  
>  And yes, the mirror scene was absolutely taken from _Chilling Adventures of Sabrina._  
>  I meant to have them separated for 17 years but... I'm weak. Also this Vanya is not drugged into numbness or constantly belittled, so she wanted to have a way of seeing Five again and _went for it._


	4. Bad Intentions (I'm Not What I've done)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanya's Отец has a _special_ surprise for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some time skips because I'm an impatient little shit in serious need of validation.  
> Kokoshnik: traditional Russian headdress. I would try to add pictures but I'll leave that for when I can commision something properly.

She only ever _played_ for him.

He'd tried talking, writing,  _everything_ that came to mind, but it was only when, a month into their nightly meetings, a woman came in, scratching a nail on the mirror, and cutting their connection short, thay he  _understood_.

Vanya's sad blue-white eyes said more than words could have. This is all they were allowed: her morning practise.

So Five drank her in, and stopped asking for more. She let him talk to her, tell her all about training, and how he very much hated the Monocle, about the others' foolishness, his own fears,  _everything_.

Her eyes would never leave him, and she played as if to sooth him or commiserate with him, depending on his mood. She seemed to read him with startling clarity, even if she was apparently only allowed to communicate through her music.

He'd made extensive diagrams of her room, but it was bigger than what the mirror let him see, and even if the major details remained the same, he had the feeling her room changed from time to time. Maybe it was wholly different rooms, in wholly different houses.

Not all was bad, though.

Vanya may not be allowed to  _speak_ to him, or write to him again, but he'd gotten pretty good at _reading_ this new Vanya.

Well, new and yet familiar.

She looked more alert, more active, more  _present_ , and he inevitably thought of the pills she'd been forced to take.

He could see it, now, when she played. The energy haloing around her, brightening her from the inside out till she was akin to a star, illuminating his room with her light.

Or maybe that was just his biased impression. It seemed only he could hear her,  _see_ her, and part of him wondered if everything wasn't just an elaborate hallucination his mind had come up with to deal with his continued existence under the Monocle's thumb.

With how things ended up getting, he couldn't discount the option... even if he couldn't bring himself to care.

* * *

Her new routine, nay, _life_ was bound and leaps better than her old one.  
Sure, she only got a few minutes of interaction with Five, but he’d been the only one to _care_ for so long that now, having Мама and Отец left her too exhilarated to miss anyone else overmuch.

  
_(Maybe Ben, just a little, but she’d had to pick and no one outdid Five)_

  
Every dusk she rose from bed, helped by her new personal maid, and dressed for breakfast after having a relaxing bath.

She knew Мама and Отец rose much earlier, but didn’t feel left out. The only reason she wasn’t there with them all the time was because they had _Adult Stuff_ to do, and one day she would be grown up enough to go with them.

Every night, she got closer and closer to that goal. _Vanya_ was in no way a _disappointment_.

  
Мама would grant her a single glass of her blood, after she’d eaten her breakfast (no oatmeal, thankfully). Vanya grew to enjoy it, soon enough. It somehow made her feel _closer_ to Мама, and she knew she could trust _her_ to help her with training her powers.

After all, only a week together had made Мама able to calm her down and help her  _focus_ without any apparent effort.

  
_(Maybe it was something innate to real mothers?)_

  
Once breakfast was done, she would spend her night between tutors. Отец was a very clever man, though, and had arranged it so by every long, _tedious_ lecture, there would be equally long, _entertaining_ lesson time. She would slowly progress on her theory, to follow with a more practical application of it in her power training, with Мама as her sole supervisor and teacher in it.

  
She learned of her powers, slowly but surely. How to bend _them_ into her will instead of being overwhelmed by them. It always helped that Мама was ever there with her unshakeable composure and endless love, to help and sooth her when Vanya got too unstable.

  
Oh, yes. _Emotions_. Such bright, disturbing things.

  
Part of her training, both as her Мама’s little miracle and as a future Lady of Отец’s House was learning to manage them. With how linked they were to her powers, there was no other option. And while she’d been allowed to observe some parties from afar, she knew the world she would one day join – how excited the thought made her! There was a special place for her alone to _belong_ to! – didn’t take kindly to those who couldn’t keep a proper composure, if Отец’s attitude towards the so-called _Rabble_ and their propensity to have fits of temper was to be taken as the common measurement.

  
It was all a tad lonely, of course. There were no other children at Отец’s great house, nor in any of the others. But Мама was there as often outside of lesson-times as her duties allowed, and always, _always_ made time to help her ready for bed. Around three hours before sunrise, Мама would come in, and help her bathe, love in her every movement, were she dabbing Vanya’s face with some of the endless skin products Отец had gotten her or simply brushing her hair.

_(Her human condition made her vulnerable to many, many things, and both Отец and Мама wanted her to be in the very best shape when **the time** came, so weekly check ups with their private doctor were common.)_

  
Мама had been the one to get her _the_ mirror, and she’d also had more nightgowns than Vanya could _count_ made for her meetings with Five.

  
In a way, it was her final test for the day. She would get ready for bed, in her best nightgown – even if Отец seemed to prefer seeing her in more... _traditional_ Russian clothing, so she’d at first wondered if Five would think her silly, standing there with such old-fashioned pyjamas, Отец’s perfectly white violin held loosely as she waited for the mirror to connect.

Мама would stay right beside it, unseen and as still and quiet as only her new nature allowed her to be.  
Whether it connected or not, for two months Vanya had been getting ready, always playing the tune she’d started to remember, from fuzzy childhood nightmares. She’d retaken it, turned it _hers_ and connected it with every melody she’d ever played for Five, always waiting for him to one day be at her mirror.

  
The night he’d actually done so, just appeared in front of her, she was so happy her power _bubbled_  under her skin, and she played till the sun had well and truly risen. Мама had been lenient, the once, because Vanya had clearly been overjoyed at seeing him again.  
Two months had felt like eternity.

  
And regardless of how strictly the rules were followed later, she would always be grateful.  
She didn’t miss life under Reginald Hargreeves’ thumb. But it was nice, _thrilling_ , even, to still have this connection to her past.

  
Five had sworn himself to her, after all. It wouldn’t do to have him forgetting her. Till she was ready, and her blood became _special_ like Мама’s, she would only have her playing to keep him coming back to her.  
So she _played_ , and let her power echo towards the very core of his soul. It was almost the happiest part of her nights.

* * *

_October 1st, 1998_

  
Отец had a special day ready for her first birthday with them, she knew.

  
For hours that previous week she’d had to stand with her white violin in her custom-made white _kokoshnik_ and her white-gold dress, all for the portrait that would hang over the chimney at the dance hall till she was of the proper age to participate in the parties. Till she at last became one of _them_ , fully.

Отец had gotten one of his “friends” to make it, and part of her had marvelled at seeing another one of _them_ so close.

  
The woman had been beautiful, but then, so were most vampires (especially those of her House, if her tutors hadn’t misspoken). Hers was the _House of Roses_ , the quasi perfect companion to Отец’s own House. So, beautiful to the point of making Vanya feel miserable, standing there to be judged in her rich clothes by a woman she couldn’t ever hope to match – not even Number Three, burgeoning beauty that she was, could have, even if they both shared the same dark skin tone, so rarely seen now in her Отец’s home.

  
This all, of course, till Мама appeared at the door.

  
It was always so, Мама had the utmost sense of timing. Vanya’s power had started to make things shake in response to her distress. Yet Мама’s mere presence was enough to calm her. _Soothe her._

  
Most gorgeous woman she’d ever met or no, Vanya was now _special_. Unique and beautiful, Отец had said it often, specially when her power made her glow. She would one day be a member of the _Blue Blood_ s, and no Blue Blood was ever brought low by a Rose, gorgeous as she may be.

  
Those impossibly green eyes stared into her soul for a long time, canvas and oils still unpacked, but Мама was _there_ and Отец would be watching from _somewhere_ , surely, so Vanya wouldn’t allow herself to flinch. She stood her ground even as her fingers trembled on her bow and the neck of her violin, as her power bubbled under her skin, so painfully ready to do her bidding.

  
The Woman – Vanya never got a name – rose then from her seat, and approached till the distance between them was almost non-existent, in a heartbeat.

Her head tilted to the side, and she towered a good head and a half over Vanya, who’d always been petite, but her whole stance seemed more _curious_ than threatening.

The Woman proceeded to walk around Vanya, those intense eyes of hers examining every detail as if trying to memorize it. And then, in a blink, she was back across the room unpacking her tools.

  
“I’ll need you to stand just as proudly for me, _dearest girl_. Just for a while. Do _try_ not to move.”

  
Her speed was staggering, and the very air around her seemed to blur with her power, if in a very different way than Отец or even Мама. It was entrancing, and every stroke on the canvas, every whisper of the oily paints moving over it, _along_ with her intent, created a melody in Vanya’s mind that she was positively dying to try. Her fingers twitched again on her bow, around her violin’s neck, and though those eyes only stopped for a second on them, Vanya blushed and did her best to stay still.

  
Pitifully, she was still a young, mostly human child, and so The Woman had had pity on her and let her go after four painful hours, every day for the very week preceeding her birthday, till the painting was finished.

* * *

Back in the safety of her rooms, the grandeur of which she’d already mostly gotten used to, Vanya played the melody that had been tingling on her fingers, her heartbeat the sole base beat.

  
It was far from perfect, but she already had a good feeling about it. And she was _dying_ to show Five!

* * *

A week later her melody still wasn’t perfect, nowhere near to doing justice to The Woman, but as good as she could make it at the time.

  
The Woman's portrait, however, was _stunning_. Upon seeing it unveiled, Vanya barely recognized herself, even if her features had been replicated (though slightly refined) to perfection.

The Vanya in the portrait didn’t seen small.  
She didn’t look like someone who could be intimidated by dark, soundless rooms, or a cold stare through a monocle. Words trapping her in her own mind.  
She looked like some otherworldly creature, quasi Fey, or maybe a young goddess.

In other words, the complete antithesis of _Seven_ , of current-Vanya, and the mere idea of _that_ being the standard expected of her was _terrifying_...

  
“ _Vanyushka_ ,” said Отец, startling her out of her increasingly spiralling thoughts and grounding her back as surely as his hand on her shoulder. “It’s time for my gift to you. Come.”

  
She did, dainty steps forced on her both by her etiquette lessons and her clothing, even as the vicious voice in her head that still sounded like Reginald Hargreeves mocked how annoyed she must be making Отец with her slowness.

 _‘No,’_ she replied silently. _‘I’m not walking slowly but rather at a **dignified** rate. A Morozova, nay, a **Ventrue** , needn’t rush anywhere.’_

Отец had talked at length, and quite often, of how undignified and improper it was running for no serious motive. _Rushing_ should only ever be done in combat, and that only if the Blue Blood failed to turn the situation to their favour in every other way.

Combat was always a last measure, and then it needed only be done quickly to limit the duration of such a loss in dignity.

Therefore, even if her short human legs couldn’t hope to be as fast as The Woman could, even in the most elaborate of dresses, it wasn’t a _failure_. Such things were to be expected. She was still young. Vanya would get to the point of walking as if on air regardless of clothing... _eventually_.  
Her dancing tutors already said she had the instinct to grasp a measure of _sprezzatura_ , so she was far from a lost case.

Her musings came to a stop when the doors of the dining hall opened, and Отец’s hand at her back kept her moving forwards even as Vanya grasped every shred of her composure to contain her reaction.

  
There, all sitting around the table, and dressed richly if more moderately than her family, heads lolling by their empty plates, were 27 children.

She’d never met them, or even seen them before, and still part of her recognized them in an instant.

  
_Miracle children._

Those who, like her, had been born to spontaneously pregnant women all around the world, on the 1st of October, 1989.

  
In her daze, she let Отец sit her at the table’s place of honour (in front of which laid a cup of blood, as usual) and tried to process what was happening.

* * *

"You must learn, Vanyushka, to hone your powers properly. Energy can be refined into destruction, yes, but think, think like the Blue Blood you will be: how should you defeat your enemy?"

It was an easy answer, in theory. Her every lesson about the House she was meant to join was about turning the enemy's own weapons against them.

Physical combat was undignified and therefore to be avoided, so a Blue Blood had to be  _very good_ at destroying opponents without quite needing to make much of an effort. At the very least giving that impression.

But how?

How could she turn the bear's claws, it's strenght and  _power_ against itself?

No words would sway it, for they shared no common code.

It needn’t anything she could give it, anyways, even if she’d been able to magically communicate with it.

Her power was _energy_. Gathering it from sound, and then letting it free from her. Apparently her moods could in some form also affect the weather, if in minor ways.

She usually gathered energy through her violin, a melody, or her heartbeat, as Мама had taught her to do in emergencies.

How c-?

Oh.

_Oh._

“It has a _melody_ too, doesn’t it, Ivan?”

Отец looked proud. His smile was sharp, and maybe Vanya would have been a tad nervous if she couldn’t feel Мама watching them from afar.

Мама was ever comforting, but Отец could, at times, be positively terrifying without even trying.

He stayed silent, unnervingly sharp smile still fixed in place, a hint of a fang on an edge. Отец wanted her to figure out what he wanted her to do on her own, then.

Vanya chose to take things by parts, and focused on the bear, till it was all she could hear.

It was chained to the far wall of the training room, and whatever calmness had driven it to keep its cool was starting to vanish, as it became more aware of its surroundings.

It’s breath was ragged, fury and confusion making it try to lash out, only to end in pain from forcing the chains. She could almost _feel it,_  the harmonies increasing as new 'voices' entered the fray.

Its chains, rattling fruitlessly. Its ragged breath. Its _frenetic_ heartbeat. Claws failing to find purchase. Hair on hair with every aborted movement.

A bear’s panic in a melody she _understood_.

And it _called_ to her. The sharper her focus, the louder it became, till bit by bit all other sound was gone. It was just _her_ , and its _heartbeat_.

Such a delightful sound to unravel!

She pulled it _in_ , blindly, instinct guiding her. It felt warm, _inviting_.

As more and more of it came, the melody started to falter but by that point it was too late. She’d hooked on the meat and was determined to feast on it, so she did.

By the time she came down from the high of it all, the bear was a husk of itself, very, _very_ dead.

But Отец’s smile was brighter than the sun she so rarely saw now, and she could _feel_ Мама’s satisfaction even as the energy of life she’d stolen tingled under her skin.

* * *

 Was…

Was she meant to do to them...

 " _Мама_?"

She hated the sound as soon as she made it, feeling Отец's fingers rise to her shoulders and dig, holding her tight.

 _Unable to escape_.

"Now, be a good girl, Vanyushka. Eat your food. 'This a meal I've arranged just for you! And it was costly, I had to call in many favours..."

She would have gulped, but her throat was too dry, so she unthinkingly took the wine glass and downed it in three gulps, like back to that first month when she still hadn't learned to taste her Мама's blood properly.

This time it was somewhat different, though. She felt her Мама's blood, of course - she was so used to it by now she could recognize it by taste alone - but there was... more.

That  _more_ made her want to gag. It was too metallic, too...

Her eyes found them again, unconscious but still alive.

They all had a red ribbon tied to their right wrist. It was ellaborate, like one may use in a gift. The tablecloth was black, as always, but she had to wonder if the space around those gift-wrapped wrists was wet.

For how long it had been, if so.

The fingers on her shoulders dug deeper, and she wanted to cry even as Мама tried to drown her in love, and calm.

She was already focusing on their heartbeats, their melodies. Bringing their symphony into her own soul.

* * *

That night, she appeared earlier than ever. She wasn't even wearing a nightgown, which made him reconsider when exactly did their moments happen for her.

The time difference made it confusing, and the Monocle had well and truly left him knackered that day, so his thoughts we slow and muddy.

She looked even more unreal then, all shining like she was her very own source of light. There was something in her radiance, though, that threw him off.

It took him far too long to realize it was her eyes.

She, who always  _looked_ at him, gaze fond and hyperfocused even as she played...  _wasn't._

Her eyes, blue-white as they always were in their mirror encounters, were fixed on some point above the mirror. Her hair was unbraided, further hiding her expression.

But the melody was frenzied, certainly the most intense she'd ever played for him, and when it was reaching its highest point, she abruptly cut it off, holding her violin and her bow as if she wished to throw them both to the ground and ground them to pieces.

"Please, leave," she said, every muscle in tension, and before he could even start to wonder what she meant, a woman appeared from outside the scope of the mirror, and after a long stare with Vanya - and that woman was her mother, he recalled then, thoughts still sluggish - she left the room altogether.

"I very much want to puke," said Vanya, as if they hadn't apparently gotten a free pass to  _speak_. "But I can't, they would know."

She got closer to the mirror, and he followed her move, thinking in a dizzy second that she would just reach from her mirror to his, to see her stop instead a hairbreath's from it, her every exhale blurring her face.

"Five.  _Five. **Five.**_ I met the others today. They're dead now. But you swore. You swore,  _you swore, **you swore**_ and so I'll give you my own oath. I'll grow, I'll learn, I'll become powerful enough.  _I will._ And then, I'll settle the accounts, of both our  _fathers_. Remember that, Five. I'll destroy whatever gets in the way. And _then_ , we'll be together."

 

Her hair was a dark halo on moonlight-pale skin, blue-white eyes almost pearly. There was energy in her,  _around her_ , and the mere sight of it took his breath away.

His fingers touched the mirror, where her hand should be, and for the first time since she'd left, he felt  _warm_ again. At  _home_.

His home was _Vanya_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, The Woman was a Toreador. I'm picturing Janelle Monae in this ridiculously gorgeous and baroque version of her outfit for her 28th birthday, like... woooah. And she had mad Craft Skill XD
> 
> 27 seven children because I'm headcanoning that, asides from the 7 (now 6) Reginald Hargreeves got, 9 others died due to complications with their births/right after them (the comics show an apparent instant birth on a _bus_ which probably didn't end well).  
> Therefore, 27 children were left to "collect".
> 
> Take into account Five is not actually privy to wtf is going on with Vanya, he's trying to figure stuff about her current situation but it biased.


	5. Jet Pack Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Truths can be harder to swallow than the bitterest pills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I offer this to you. Hoping you'll like it. #Brytte Out

By the time she’s 10 years old and her first period paints her thighs red after a constant week of lower back pain, Vanya already feels like some important part of her soul was lost through her second year as a Morozova.

Truthfully, after last year, she cannot help but fear whatever “gift” Отец will see fit to grant her.

It’s not like Мама is in any position to _stop him_ if he truly wants things done. If the early demise of 27 children had taught her anything (beyond how taking too much energy made her feel like unravelling at the seams for _months on end_ ), it’s that Мама cannot protect her from him, not then and maybe never.

She has to grow and _learn_ , turn whatever softness that… _monster_ feels towards her against him. For the choice he forced her to take, she’s sworn to herself she’ll grant him the most absolute of deaths.

* * *

 As the life-energy she’d taken fought to tear her apart from the inside out, Vanya fought to keep her mind together.

It felt as if waking from a dream, or rather, being _punched awake_ from it.

Useless, _ordinary_ Number Seven had jumped at the idea of being _special_ to someone. Even as her dearest companion expressed his concerns about her dreams, about this figure who’d _given her away_ and then took _eight years_ to bother trying to contact her again, Seven had been too thrilled by the idea of it all: someone - nay, _her mother_ \- had longed for her, _wanted her_ so much that they’d somehow transcended the bounds of the _ordinary_ , reaching her mind through space, time and the boundaries of common human condition.

 

Now she wonders, because part of her _has to_ , if her Мама would have allowed herself to be used to get _her_ , had she known of Отец’s true intentions back then. If she was _aware_ but risked it anyways. If such a feeling even justifies what Мама’s wishes ended up _taking_ from her.

 

She was too naïve, and in many ways still is.

Even knowing what Отец will one day ask - _demand_ , more likely - of her, she clings to the fact that he doesn’t seem to mind Five.

But then, her new father’s brand of cruelty is different from her old one. Отец may just let her keep Five, save _him_ alone if not any other, only to hold his continued existence over her head as a new way to tie her to his will.

 

Initially, Vanya had been so _starved_ for attention that being showered with it, with gifts and praise and _love_ … she just took, _took_ , kept taking and gorging herself on it, for it may all be just a dream and vanish faster than Five’s true smiles when _the Monocle_ was around.

By the time she even realized all those luxuries could come at a prize, it was far too late.

(She’d been taught _the truth_ about blood bonds _purposefully late._ )

If only Sir Reginald could see her now! Even able to somewhat hone in her power instead of merely letting it run rampant, he would mock her for her utter stupidity.

_“Well, Number Seven, I should have expected such careless recklessness from Number Four, but you? It seems I greatly overestimated your intelligence, you fool, stupid child. No one ever gives anything freely.”_

She’s sure if he _knew_ , he would have delivered such a speech, maybe even bothering to turn his cold stare on her to further emphasize how utterly lacking in wits he thought her.

Alas, too little, too late.

Vanya could _doubt_ if her every feeling towards Мама was merely a side effect of her _special blood_ in her for all eternity, without it being able to keep her from _feeling_ them.

For Vanya loved her Мама to pieces. Whether this came about because of her warmer parenting style in combination to some unknown fondness for the woman who’d had her existence _forced on her_ in less than an hour of rather extreme pain, or due to the effects of vampire blood binding her affections was, ultimately, pointless. She couldn’t _stop_ loving her even if she sometimes _wanted_ to.

Both of them, it seemed, had a propensity for grasping whatever they most desired without giving much thought to the consequences, till said consequences made themselves _known_ when the time to pay their pound of flesh came.

Marya hadn’t bothered to question why the vampire who so easily seemed to be able to get his way had chosen _her_ , a lonely and traumatized girl, out of every other girl as his _childe_.

Why such a vampire, having dropped the nice façade and taking her human life from her without a care for her feelings would be _so keen_ on helping her regain the baby she’d had for such a brief moment. The birth of which had then kept her apart from others, even when the ‘miracle’ itself was gone, for even if she was quite the _Marya_ , no one longed to be her Joseph.

Number Seven hadn’t bothered to wonder why, having taken her so sneakily, having tried so hard to erase her every connection to her _adoptive family_ , he’d let her maintain - and indeed, _fomented_ \- her connection to Number Five, even as he forced her into the mold of what he wanted her to become.

They’d both foolishly exposed their weak spots, and Vanya’s 9th birthday had been a proper lesson to them both.

So now, on the night of her 10th birthday, through the pain that seemed to carve its way through her insides, she just examined the blood and wondered how things would end up by dawn.

* * *

 Her maid was as stoic and nonplussed as ever, through arranging her bath and the collecting of the tainted bedsheets.

Мама appeared on time to help her get dry, and with some pads for her.

They were uncomfortable and Vanya felt an almost constant need to check if she was bleeding on her clothes, but Мама had just smiled sadly and told her everything would be fine.

Her lessons that day passed in a hazy fog of doing her utmost to avoid showing her pain and discomfort - for a Lady would never let such weakness out for all to see - and mostly failing. If her powers that day were more prone to destruction than since her last birthday, not a single tutor commented on it.

The main difference came at dinner. Her food was brought on a tray, along with the glass of blood.

Now, Vanya may be prone to make mistakes, but she wasn’t one to repeat them, so she just set the glass aside and didn’t dare to sip it. The food was delicious, she was sure of it, even when it had all tasted like ash to her since _that night_.

Once finished, she set the tray aside on her bedside table, just as Мама burst into the room, her composure less than perfect.

Where she someone less trained to keep up her façade, she might have looked _frantic_ , at least till her eyes found the glass, still full and untouched.

Closing and locking the door behind her, she took a deep, unnecessary breath before going to sit by her daughter’s side.

“Tell me, солнышко, have you tasted it?”

Vanya looked at her, at the cracks in her mask, and couldn’t help but hope the truth would reassure her.

“Not a drop, Мама.”

This made her sag, relief written in every line, and some part of Vanya wondered if Мама was proud of her for not again drinking something the source of which she hadn’t clearly seen.

“This wasn’t meant for you, love. It was my nightly dosis, not yours,” she drank the glass in two gulps without further ado. “Do you feel up to your dosis, солнышко?”

Мама had kept the glass, but her right wrist was turned towards her, expecting.

“Won’t there be a party, Мама?”

“Not this year, солнышко. Your Отец will have something grand for your coming out, but for now, you’ve barely started to become a woman,” she said, as if the hollowness in her eyes couldn’t let Vanya know there was something else at play. “Now, will you drink?”

Vanya took her Мама’s wrist delicately, even knowing that there was little her strength could do to harm her.

In a way the whole thing felt precious, being allowed to nurse directly from her Мама, as she hadn’t been able to in her earliest life.

“Must I bite you?” Her teeth were human. The strength needed to pierce Мама’s skin would probably break her teeth before even scratching her.

“Do as you wish.”

Huh. _A test, then? But of what?_

Vanya opened the first drawer of her nightstand, and distractedly searched it with her free hand. Her fingers touched her pocket watch, and she caressed it for a second before at last finding a knife.

Мама must have willed herself to be vulnerable, or the apparently simple knife she’d been given for training wasn’t as _simple_ as she thought.

Either way, soon Мама’s wrist was her fountain, and Vanya drank greedily, more than she’d ever taken, lost in the feedback loop of endless love and warm affection her Мама had filled her mind with. Not once did her eyes lift towards the mirror, or she would have seen Five on the other side, mildly horrified and yet endlessly curious, as her Мама held a finger to her lips to keep him quiet.

Vanya didn’t care or see anything else. She went to sleep still high on love and blood, the pain of her first period momentarily lost in the warmth of her Мама’s sweet, sweet blood on her tongue.

* * *

 Vampire blood had many special properties, especially in mostly human beings, like her. Even as it tied the one who drank it to the one who gave it, there were many perks. Sharper senses, increased fortitude and stamina, accelerated healing...

 _Freedom for power_. Such was the most common of trades between vampires, and supernatural beings in general.

However, Vanya couldn’t fully blame vampire blood - _Мама’s blood_ \- for what she was turning into.

Wherein Reginald Hargreeves had tried to keep her hollow and numb, once her usefulness as a weapon had been overshadowed by his inability to tame her, Ivan wanted her full to bursting, wild and yet tamed, beauty and beast alike.

He definitely knew better than her last father, when it came to how to keep her from turning against him. What bottoms to push, to keep her in line. What _carrots_ to dangle on the stick.

It had barely been two years, and yet it felt like an eternity.

Her life before Мама, before _Ivan_ , seemed faint and foggy, as if lost in a numbed cloud of pain and misery.

She’d already forgotten most of her old family, the only ones remaining etched in her mind being Five, whom she saw every night - now free to talk with or play to, if ever aware that her words would be measured and censored by Мама’s extra sensitive ears -, Reginald Hargreeves, the man who’d tried to kill her soul with soundless darkness, and… _Number Three_. The sister whom, she now remembered clearly, had been used against her in the cruelest way.

Whether her memories were being tampered with or simply overwritten by the sharper intensity of her reality amidst vampires, Vanya knew only that year by year something was dying within her.

Even Five, who’d taken to their new ability to truly communicate swiftly in trying to get to know everything she was allowed to tell him about her new life, couldn’t seem to keep her fully grounded.

He’d been unusually quiet, the night after their birthday, and so she’d babbled about her lessons, played him a few melodies, while trying to tell herself that his silence definitely didn’t mean he’d lost interest in their nightly meetings.

“Vanya,” he’d said then, interrupting her rant on how controlling her powers still often felt like trying to herd cats. “Do you still… you know, _eat_?”

He had his thinking face on, and she suddenly wished she could just access his mind and _see_ what sort of problem had caught his attention from her.

“Well, of course! Отец and Мама want me to grow healthy and strong, as a human, so I’ll be in proper shape when my time comes.”

It was such an obviousness to her, why would Five, _genius_ Five, ask such a thing? Shouldn’t he have been able to _tell_?

Yet he blinked twice, as if something in her wording had surprised him.

“Your… time?”

“ _Yes_. And don’t ask, I don’t know the exact date. Отец has only said I should properly grow as a human before then, but he and Мама both look young so I don’t know. Definitely after my 15th birthday, though.”

“Oh?” He said, and if part of her was glad to see him more animated, even in his smug amusement, she still tried her best to glare at him. “Are you going to have your _sweet sixteen_ , Vanya?”

She pouted at him.

“It’s not a _sweet sixteen_ thing,” she whined, almost grimacing at his sceptical eyebrow. “It’s a _coming out to society_. Not… not like in Three’s magazines.”

“Uhm…”

“Five!”

His half smile was in full effect, showing a dimple, and she got momentarily distracted. Maybe he’d done that on purpose, though, because his next question caught her unprepared.

“Then, just drinking a vampire’s blood isn’t enough to turn you into one?”

She instantly turned towards the door, listening with all she had for footsteps. Мама could be extremely silent, but Vanya’s hearing was truly prodigious and so maybe she could hurry the conversation back on track before Five got them both in trouble.

_“How are your space jumps going?”_

Her words were emphatic enough, but just in case she gave him a _look_ , trying to convey that she wasn’t allowed to spill the beans on that matter.

Vampires were sneaky types, and just _telling_ those not-kin (or meant to become kin, like her) their secrets wasn’t seen with kind eyes.

Her every interaction with Five could in some ways be considered a breaking of the _Masquerade_ , and such things were usually severely punished, but she took care not to mention her life’s supernatural nature or touch on it in any way, always walking the very fine line of still saying things without revealing much.

She was able to speak to him now, yes, but she was a long way from becoming an official member of her Clan, nevermind ever thinking of turning _Five_ , so such topics were out of their purview.

“Vanya-”

 **_“Five_ ** . **”**

He seemed frustrated, but she kept their stare down till he _knew_ she wouldn’t relent. So he told her of training, of One and Two’s foolish competitions, of Three’s ever growing ego, of Four’s increasing love affair with marihuana and Six’s failed efforts to stop it.

She in turn told him of her violin practises, and how learning Russian seemed impossible, of the endless names and dates that got tangled in her mind after her history lessons, and how many times she’d stepped on her poor dance tutor’s feet.

 

There was a tension between them now, however, that refused to leave.


End file.
